Survival Aptitude Test: Rise (The Extinction Odyssey Book 3)

by Mike Sheriff

  Heqet’s brow crimped. “I don’t understand.”

  “It seems Daoren abandoned you at your most vulnerable moment.”

  “He would never do that.”

  “And yet here you are—the usurper’s wife and newborn son, left alone to face his mortal enemies. What kind of husband and father would allow that to happen?”

  “He would never—”

  “Yes, yes, yes,” Julinian said. “I know, Heqet. Something must have happened to him. Perhaps he was wounded and dragged off by his allies, Sha damn their eyes. Perhaps he’s choking out his final breaths at this very moment, crying your name over and over. Or perhaps he’s perfectly healthy and plotting to come rescue you.”

  She paced closer to the divan. “I’m wagering on the latter, so I’m broadcasting your location on every communication channel at my disposal. I’m telling anyone who will listen that I have Daoren al Lucien’s wife and son here in my chamber at the Assembly.”

  Heqet glared up at her, eyes aflame with murderous intent.

  “If he’s still alive and cares a whit for you, he’ll be here shortly.” She reached down and clamped her hand around Heqet’s mouth. “Then you’ll both watch your infant son die.”

  Heqet’s murderous gaze persisted longer than expected—she had spirit—but it finally dissolved amid a despairing moan.

  Julinian flashed a smug grin and released her grip. “Until then, you can enjoy my hospitality.”

  She wandered back to the door and summoned the Jireni guards back inside. They took up their positions, dart guns held across their chests. She turned back to Heqet before exiting the antechamber. “I’ll send in some food. You must be starving after all of your activity.”

  Heqet hawked and spat on the floor. “You can hang your food, you slaking cudd!”

  Julinian shrugged. “Perhaps not, then.”

  DAOREN OPENED HIS eyes, only to squeeze them shut again. A throbbing ache radiated from the base of his skull and pummeled his temples. A cold, hard surface pressed against his hips and spine. He gulped two painful breaths and opened his eyes again.

  An unadorned ceramic ceiling loomed above him, its tan hue made duller by poor illumination. Its orientation nevertheless yielded a vital spatial landmark—he was lying on a floor inside a foreign chamber.

  He tensed his abdomen and sat up. The effort intensified the throbbing in his head, triggering immediate regret and a breathless curse.

  “Gently now, Unum.”

  He lifted his gaze, mindful to keep the movement slow and deliberate.

  An Indonoid woman stood over him. A bloody flexglass dressing covered her right cheek. “You took the full force of a sound round,” she said. “Sha only knows how you weren’t culled.”

  He tried to translate her words into understanding, but his short-term memory seemed to be riddled with holes. What sound round was she talking about? Had he been involved in some sort of firefight? Had the Indonoid been with him since they’d evacuated the wall’s battlement? “What’s your name?”

  “Bhavya.”

  He squinted. Her clothing boasted a strange style and cut. The gray blouse, quilted trousers, and black boots reminded him of a mongrel bianfu. “Who are you?”

  “I’m a Jiren.”

  “Did you fight beside me atop the wall?”

  “No, Unum. I joined up with you at the Hollows.”

  The Hollows.

  The mention of the location filled the holes in his memory with breathculling speed. In the space of a single gasp, the details slammed together with startling clarity.

  They’d come under fire on the southern boundary of the cloister. Taan had been culled at the onset of the engagement. At least a dozen more had died as it progressed. A group of mongrels had joined the fight. He’d been blown off his feet by a sound round while he was—

  Daoren bolted upright and scanned the chamber.

  It wasn’t much bigger than his old abode and sparsely furnished. Ten feet away, Commander Hyro lingered by a solitary door, conversing with three members of his personal guard. Two more Jireni appeared to be sleeping on the floor. There was no sign of the six denizens who’d been hiding at the outpost, nor Su or Aesic, nor—

  “Where’s Heqet?”

  “Stay calm, Unum,” Bhavya said.

  “Hang calm!” he shouted. “Where is my wife?”

  Hyro raced over from the door. “Hush, Unum. We’re not in the safest of locations.”

  He snatched the collar of her bianfu and yanked her closer. “Where is my wife?”

  Hyro’s eyes shimmered and welled. “After the sound round struck, Su and I managed to get you onto your feet and moving toward the southern structures. Aesic and three members of the guard attended to the Zhenggong and were pulling her to safety. I was sure they were only a few paces behind us when . . .”

  “When what?”

  “I turned to look for them.” A tear tracked down Hyro’s cheek. Her voice thickened. “They’d been struck by sonic rounds.”

  Daoren’s tongue turned to ash. “Was Heqet hit?”

  “I . . . I don’t know.”

  “How can you not know?” he screamed. “Is Heqet dead?”

  Hyro recoiled from the shout. The brittle words surged past her and resounded off the chamber’s ceramic walls. The creak of a door joined them.

  “No, Unum. She’s not dead.”

  Daoren whirled to the familiar voice.

  Su al Xing threaded the doorway. He raised his one good hand, the gesture clearly intended to be calming. “Prepare yourself, because someone else has returned from the dead.”

  Two Asianoids clad in mongrel bianfu entered the chamber. One of them flashed a smile that clashed with her usual reticence.

  Daoren blinked, dumbstruck by the apparition. He’d never expected to see Cang al Aridian again—and certainly not dressed as a mongrel. He tried to speak, but her miraculous reappearance and Heqet’s uncertain fate flummoxed his thoughts.

  Cang paced closer and bowed. She motioned to the second Asianoid, who’d taken up position beside Bhavya. “This is Jiren Yongrui. He and Jiren Bhavya are the sole remaining survivors of my crew.”

  Bhavya and Yongrui bowed in unison. “One day I’ll tell you how we survived,” Cang said after they straightened, “but for now I’d wager you’d rather hear about the Zhenggong.”

  Daoren appreciated her grasp of the obvious. “What do you know?”

  “We know she’s alive”

  “But how do you know?”

  Cang held out a tactical tile. “Listen.”

  He gazed at the dormant tile. “To what?”

  “Wait one . . .”

  The tile issued a warbling hiss. Its volume was set low, but loud enough to hear another familiar voice ebbing from its speaker.

  “Denizens of Daqin Guojin, this is a message from Julinian alum Petravic—your Trium, protector, and friend.”

  The lilt of Julinian’s voice struck Daoren like a sonic round. He gaped at Cang.

  She appeared equally disturbed, but remained silent. Julinian’s voice again filled the chamber.

  “Over the last eight months, Daqin Guojin has been subjected to a destabilizing series of edicts. I can now report that the calamities unleashed by Daoren al Lucien and his reckless tenure as Unum are over. Forces committed to the long-term stability of the city-state have resumed control. We have also secured two important prisoners, and I pledge to you that they will receive swift justice. We are holding Heqet alum Fengsei and her newborn son at the Assembly. Here is the proof.”

  Another voice leaked from the tile—more muffled than Julinian’s, but instantly recognizable.

  “You can hang your food, you slaking cudd!”

  Daoren shoulder slumped as he released a whooshing breath. Heqet sounded furious, but at least she was alive. “When did she start sending this message?”

  “Four hours ago,” Su said. “While Cang and I were out on patrol.”

  Daoren blinked. “How long
have I been unconscious?”

  “Eighteen hours,” Hyro said.

  The befuddling statement compounded his confusion. Before he could ask another question, Cang waggled the tile. “There’s another segment coming up.”

  Julinian’s voice issued from the tile after a short pause. “My apologies for the former Zhenggong’s foul language, but drastic times dictate drastic measures. The usurper Daoren al Lucien remains at large. Loyal denizens can report any information on his whereabouts to the Assembly in exchange for ample rewards.” Another moment of silence passed. “And should Daoren be listening to this broadcast, he should know that he can spare his wife and infant son incalculable suffering by tendering his immediate surrender in person.”

  Cang muted the tile. “That’s the end of her message.”

  Daoren raked his hands through his hair, struggling to process the revelation.

  Julinian alum Petravic was alive.

  On several occasions after the former Unum’s defeat, Pyros had recounted the story of her demise outside the Great Pyramid. How she’d been goaded by Narses into leading a group of Jireni down the sand slope. How she’d activated an acoustic squib and been blown into the air. Pyros had taken her for dead; he’d assumed Narses had recovered her body and disposed of it in the Sea of Storms on his return flight to Daqin Guojin. Daoren had no reason to suspect otherwise . . . until now.

  He surveyed the group. “How can she be here?”

  They shook their heads in turn. Cang spoke first. “The only explanation I can summon is that the mongrels picked her up in the Great Saharan Desert.”

  “She just happened to stumble upon a mongrel patrol while we were inside the Great Pyramid?”

  “No, Unum. I believe she started planning this invasion with the mongrels long before you entered the picture. I believe she was in contact with them throughout the mission to hunt you and Laoshi. A cullcraft was likely shadowing the pursuit the entire time.”

  “We met up with some of my men on the border of Yindu Cheng during our patrol,” Su said. “They told us that Julinian is part of a new triumvirate, co-ruling the city-state with Hai al Kong and a mongrel named Massum ili Mussam.”

  “A Slavv, an Asianoid, and a mongrel ruling Daqin Guojin?” Daoren asked. “She must have promised them more than a share of power to gain their cooperation.”

  “They’ll have demanded a more tangible reward,” Su said, nodding.

  “Grooll.”

  “That would be my guess, Unum.”

  “We can sit here and speculate all night,” Hyro said, “but that won’t change the fact that we’re now dealing with two hardened locations in which our kin’s safety is in grave doubt.”

  Daoren turned to her. “You’re right, commander. That’s why I want you to go to the Librarium. Once you’ve located your daughter and my mother, proceed to Rhyger’s Cliffs.”

  “And what will you do?” Hyro asked.

  “I’m going to the Assembly.”

  Hyro flicked a wary glance at Cang and Su. “You can’t be serious.”

  “I made a vow to protect my family. I intend to keep it.”

  “That vow will get you culled,” Cang said.

  “Which is why I can’t ask any of you to come with me,” Daoren said. “I’m the reason why Julinian is holding Heqet and Mako prisoner. I’m the only one who needs to face the repercussions.”

  “And I’m still your Primae Jiren,” Cang said. “I can’t let you walk into the Assembly and face certain death on your own.”

  “Nor can I,” Su said. He offered a resolute smile. “When I said I’d prefer to be culled while I’m on the offensive, I meant it.”

  Daoren heaved a weary sigh—the looks on their faces told him they’d never let him proceed on his own. “Very well.” He clasped Hyro’s arm. “But I still want you to head to the Librarium.”

  Hyro’s tortured countenance smacked of internal conflict. “I’ll obey your order, but only because my daughter is there. I have to know whether she’s—”

  “There’s no need to explain,” Daoren said. “Just get there as soon as possible.”

  It took less than five minutes for Hyro to gather up her meager force of eight Jireni. Their somber departure left Daoren alone with Su, Cang, Bhavya, and Yongrui.

  He spent the next thirty minutes huddled around the chamber’s lone table, listening as Cang and the others tried to square an intractable circle. They could have taken thirty days to puzzle the problem and the outcome would be the same; there was no way to infiltrate the Assembly, rescue Heqet and Mako, and come out alive. He only tolerated the half-hour of pointless discussion so Hyro and her Jireni would be too far away to play any role in stopping him.

  His fingers tingled as the moment approached. Beside him, Su and the others leaned over Cang’s tactical tile, studying the Assembly’s layout, searching for a covert route leading up to the Unum’s chamber. Their sonic rifles lay upon the table, out of their reach . . . but not his.

  Daoren yawned and stretched, keeping his intent hidden, then snatched one up. He swung its butt at the base of Cang’s skull.

  Its thick stock connected with a sharp crack. Cang staggered sideways into the wall and slumped to the floor.

  Su crouched beside her. Bhavya and Yongrui gaped at Daoren.

  He leveled the rifle at them. “As your Unum, I’m ordering you to remain here and attend to the Primae Jiren. Once she regains consciousness, you’re to take her to Rhyger’s Cliffs and link up with the rest of our force. With Sha’s favor, Su will join you there with my wife and son.”

  “And you?” Bhavya asked.

  “Sha has chosen a different path for me.” He motioned for Su to stand. “I need you to accompany me part of the way.”

  “Of course, Unum,” Su said, expression a mix of alarm and bewilderment.

  Daoren pointed at the door. Su took the lead, the rifle’s muzzle only inches from his back. Daoren turned to the two Jireni before he exited the chamber. “If I see either of you following us, I’ll cull you. Is that understood?”

  Bhavya stiffened to attention and answered on their behalf. “Yes, Unum. Good fortune.”

  Daoren snapped a brusque nod. “And good fortune to you.”

  18

  A Broken Deal

  DAOREN HALTED TEN feet from the edge of the open square. Su stood three paces to his front.

  Beyond him, the Assembly’s grand façade stood three hundred-fifty feet high and extended twice as long. Its mauve columns buttressed a two-level roof and dozens of balconies. At one time, the uppermost balcony spanned a tenth of the structure’s width. It had been sheared away by the sonic blasts that destroyed the original square. A long, rectangular maw nevertheless landmarked his objective; the Unum’s chamber.

  “What now?” Su asked.

  Daoren tugged his quantum tile from his pocket. “Now I make contact.”

  He selected a pre-programmed frequency from its database. The call connected a moment later.

  “Hai?”

  He steadied his voice. “It’s me.”

  “Sapient Sha,” Julinian said, “if it isn’t the mighty usurper himself! How are you, Daoren?”

  “I’ve seen better days.”

  A snort leaked from the tile. “I take it you heard my message. I was worried that Heqet’s voice might not be clear—the quantum tile was in my mianfu’s pocket when I recorded it. I thought all those sparkling studs might have created excessive interference and blocked your wife’s lilting tone.”

  Daoren squeezed the tile to stop his hand from shaking.

  “So where are you, mighty usurper?”

  He drew a spine-bracing breath. His next words would seal his fate—and those of his wife and son. The words escaped him.

  “You have me at a disadvantage,” Julinian said. “You know where I am. You can come here and cull me any time you’d like . . . unless you have another plan you want to discuss. One that involves saving your wife and son?”

  “I
’m willing to make you a deal,” he said. “I’ll surrender to you right now if you’ll promise to let them go free.”

  “And you trust me to honor that deal? How do you know I won’t cull all three of you?”

  “Because then you won’t learn the passcodes for the grooll reserves.”

  Another snort leaked from the tile. “What do I care of grooll reserves?”

  “I’d wager your mongrel and Asianoid allies care a great deal about them. And so should you. If you can’t deliver on what you promised them, you’ll soon find their daggers in your back.”

  Julinian took a moment to answer. “You always were an insightful cudd. So you’re proposing—”

  “I’m proposing to come to my chamber and surrender. Once I’m—”

  “It’s my chamber now.”

  “And once I’m there, you’ll let my wife and son go. When I know they’re in safe hands, I’ll reveal the passcodes for every grooll vault in the city-state. Then you’ll be free to do whatever you want with me.”

  The tile issued sporadic hisses.

  “Do you accept my terms?”

  “I accept.”

  “I’ll be carrying a sonic rifle,” he said. “If I see any mongrels or Asianoids before I reach the chamber, I’ll cull them on sight.”

  “I’ll make sure your path is clear,” Julinian said. “But do hurry, Daoren. My mongrel colleagues are starving . . . and your son is looking mighty tasty.”

  Daoren terminated the call and cursed her under his breath.

  Su shook his head. “I don’t see how this can work, Unum. She could cull your family the moment you enter the chamber. Then she could torture you at her leisure and force you to reveal the passcodes.”

  “That’s the second reason I’m taking the sonic rifle.”

  Su’s brow folded, distorting the ancient script implanted in his scalp. “What do you mean?”

  “If I sense she’s going to renege on her promise, I’ll cull my wife and son before taking my own life.”

  The color drained from Su’s cheeks. “There has to be a better way!”

  Daoren released a bitter laugh. “There is, Su. And if we had the luxury of time, I’m sure we could find it. But if delaying until a better plan revealed itself led to my family’s culling, I couldn’t live with myself. Better to do the deed with my own hands.”